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Dark blond hair, pretty blue eyes and lips so plump that she almost envies them. Yes, that Ingrid girl she has just thrown into the dungeons to be dealt by Alcina’s other subjects was indeed gorgeous, but not as nearly as gorgeous as herself, Miranda bitterly thinks seeing her new face reflected on one of the mirror’s hanged by the corridor’s walls as the group of new maids pass by. The group of four girls is led by Cassandra instead of Bela, which is quite the surprise because, as far as Miranda recalls, Alcina is constantly complaining about her middle daughter’s recklessness and antics that are provoking an alarming decrease of the staff’s numbers. However, it may be good that Cassandra is there. Perhaps in a whim the girl decides to… get rid of one of the trembling lambs –how can the maids in this castle be so skittish and yet throw themselves at Alcina’s arms? She can’t comprehend such incongruence.
Also, is good that Cassandra is the one guiding there. It would do no good if Bela and her sharp eye to detail recognized her in her disguise. She would kill everyone in this castle and them herself before being forced to give Alcina an explanation about why she threw a hardworking maid to her doom and took her place shapeshifting. By no means she’ll ever tell Alcina that she’s jealous.
It was pure coincidence that a few days ago she entered the shrine just in time to hear Alcina gloat over Heisenberg about the quickies she has within the walls of her chambers.
Back at that moment Miranda let it slide and feigned disinterest. But she couldn’t help but ardently feel Alcina’s burning eyes boring into her soul, as if she was expecting a reaction coming from her, some sign that the priestess’ ever calm demeanor was longer gone. However, Miranda’s collected demeanor vanished the moment the meeting finished and returned to her chambers.
How dare a bunch of worthless and pathetic virgins have the chance to be pleasured by the countess’ dexterous hands?
She easily could command Alcina to pleasure her, but she would rather drop dead than reduce herself to the indignity of letting the countess know that Miranda is jealous of mortal woman and wants to be the object of Alcina’s constant attention. That would fuel the countess’ already big ego and Miranda wouldn’t hear the end of it.
Is hardly a secret that there’s some kind of… sexual tension between the two of them since a long time ago –decades feel like nothing when you’re immortal and eternally beautiful–. Well, they have ravished each other with hungry kisses and lascivious touches a few times after getting too drunk with Alcina’s best vintage. But Miranda ended sobering quickly and leaving before the situation could get out of control, just to spite on Alcina and remind her that she’s the one who’s in charge: if someday they finish what they start it’ll be by Miranda’s will and not Alcina’s.
The woman snaps out of her thoughts when the group arrives at the main hall and, out of the blue, Cassandra lunges at the tallest of the lambs who starts to scream at the top of her lungs both in shock and pain as her attacker sinks her teeth on the girl’s neck. Miranda has to fight the devilish grin that’s creeping on the corner of her lips. Well, Cassandra has unknowingly made her a favor. The woman takes a mental note to reward Alcina’s middle daughter later. The other two lambs are white as sheet, one of them is surely going to faint any minute by now, but they try to remain unfazed, ignoring the helpless pleas of their co-worker as Cassandra drains her blood. However, the girl’s thrill quickly dies the moment the sound of clicking heels echo through the hall. Cassandra goes alert and stiffens, dropping the almost lifeless lamb to the floor with a loud thump before a voice Miranda knows too well reaches their ears, dragging the second syllable of the mischievous daughter’s name.
“Cassandra!”, the countess yells from the banister of the top floor, looking down at them with wild eyes. “What did I tell you?!”
“… That no one should lay a hand on them because today you wanted to pick one of them for yourself…”, Cassandra sheepishly replies to Miranda’s amusement, who never saw the girl acting like that. Although she can sympathize with her because Alcina truly looks like she’s about to have a terrible outburst. “But mother, you still have three to choose between!”
Be grateful that I didn’t get rid of them like your Ingrid girl, Miranda coldly thinks to herself.
Alcina sighs as she pinches her nose.
“Go and find what your sisters are up to. Leave this to me.”
“But what about the ones that you’ll discharge? Shouldn’t we throw them to the…?”
“No”, Alcina quickly interrupts her. “Nothing like that. They’ll be dismissed. We’re already severely understaffed because of a certain lady” she says narrowing her eyes at Cassandra who widely grins before vanishing in a furious swarm of flies that fly away, leaving Alcina and the four maids –well, actually three because the attacked lamb is probably dead by this time– alone in the hall.
Alcina slowly blinks, creaking her knuckles in silence. Miranda knows that the countess is counting until ten; that’s what she usually does to cool down her hot temperament. It would be very un-lady to not look stoic and regal in front of the staff. And that’s exactly what happens: at the count of ten, Alcina goes down the stairs at a deliberate slow pace. The priestess takes the chance to side-glance the other maids.
The fact that most of the girls of Alcina’s staff are blondes with porcelain skin and blue eyes never went unnoticed to Miranda. What do those maids have that she doesn’t? What does Alcina see in them that she doesn’t see in her? Her hair is as bright as the dawn, her skin as pale as the moonlight, her eyes as blue and cold as the first snowflakes of the harsh winter.
Her wings as dark as the night.
However, perhaps what truly stirs Miranda’s jealousy is that the skittish maids, despite witnessing daily the horrors that take place within the castle’s walls and know about the hot temperament of their mistress, they still look at Alcina with an adoration and reverence nobody looked at Miranda in her whole life –with the exception of Alcina, of course–. Miranda squints her eyes, feeling how her jealousy and burning rage are threatening to blow up her disguise. Once this is over, she’ll make sure that those two impudent girls are thrown to the dungeons so their flesh and bones root next to Ingrid’s ones. How dare they look at her Alcina with such desire? She’s the only one who has the right to look at Lady Dimitrescu like that.
Never mind, she’s confident that Alcina won’t bat an eye at the lambs, and she’ll choose her in a heartbeat, not noticing that Ingrid actually is Miranda in disguise. Alcina might have heightened senses thanks to the Cadou’s mutation, but there’s no way she’ll see through Miranda’s fake appearance. Nobody has ever discovered her while she’s shapeshifting, so why would be Alcina be the first to accomplish such feat?
Such is Miranda’s confidence, a bit too close to the ancient Greeks’ hybris, that with a smug smirk she observes Alcina approaching the first lamb. She’s cute, but too short for Alcina’s taste. Oh, she truly despises short people, they’re not too fun to play with.
“You’re dismissed”, Alcina snarls at the lamb, not giving her a second look. “And take this filth out of there”, she adds pointing at the fallen lamb –incredible, she’s a strong one: she’s still breathing–. The maid squeals and whispers a hurried yes, ma’am as she drags her coworker and leaves the hall as quickly as possible.
When they’re gone, Alcina takes another step and turns around to face the other lamb. Miranda has to admit that this one is beautiful indeed, her hair almost as pale as hers and with a striking beauty mark on the left side of her mouth, near to her bottom lip. Alcina seems to think the same as she softly hums in approval, playing with a few strands of hair of the maid. The lamb profusely blushes at the touch of Alcina’s hand over her beauty mark. Miranda has to clench her jaw to not growl at both of them.
Don’t you dare to pick her, Alcina Dimitrescu, or you’ll see my wrath unleash on this pitiful castle of yo-
Miranda’s train of thoughts gets interrupted by the sudden glance Alcina gives her as if she has heard her thoughts. The priestess stiffens as the countess approaches her, a dangerous look on her face like a predator preparing themselves to hunt their desirable prey. Miranda’s cheeks flush in embarrassment –or perhaps in excitement?– at the thought of Alcina biting her neck and sucking the blood from her godly body. Alcina tilts her head, smirking at Miranda’s reaction, but suddenly her expression freezes when she takes a closer look at the priestess’ face –or rather Ingrid’s one–. Miranda looks puzzled at Alcina, noticing that something flickered inside the countess, but she says nothing and traces the contour of Miranda’s jaw with her finger. Miranda almost gasps when Alcina suddenly lifts her chin with that same finger, her molten golden eyes boring inside her fake blue ones. Is that amusement what twinkles in Alcina’s eyes or is she starting to imagine things in the heat of the moment?
However, a thing is clear: Alcina has chosen her.
“You”, the countess addresses the other girl, not taking her eyes off Miranda, completely enthralled by her. “Dismissed.”
Miranda takes note to find later that blasted lamb and personally put an end to her miserable life for the dirty look she has given to her, seeing that Alcina chose her goddess over some mortal girl. But if Alcina has seen the lamb’s dirty look too, she pays no mind and forcefully grabs Miranda’s shoulder, guiding her almost hurriedly towards the small dining room to the courtyard, which startles Miranda because Alcina’s chambers, the ones she has been on a few occasions, are at the end of a corridor near the Hall of Statues, on the other direction. However, she decides to not give it a thought and focus on keeping a long stride –which is being a bit difficult, this fake body being inches shorter than her own body– as she senses Alcina’s irritation at her slow pace.
“I pity those little arms and legs of you”, the countess says, almost making Miranda trip at the bottom of the stairs of this new part of the castle they entered when she pushes her. Miranda wonders if this is going to be worthy, she can’t handle this humiliation she’s unreasonably willingly accepting.
When they reach the top of the stairs, Alcina guides her to a door with the coat of arms of House Dimitrescu. Miranda slyly rolls her eyes when Alcina picks from under her sleeve a key with that same symbol and opens the door.
Seriously, what’s wrong with this woman and her childish fascination for that symbol?
But the priestess gets surprised when Alcina gestures her to enter the room and closes the door behind then. Miranda swears that the last time she was in this room it was Alcina’s dresser. She vividly remembers the baroque vanity desk and the mannequin wearing Alcina’s clothes. But this time the room is filled with a massive king-size bed that completely occupies it. The bed is covered by garnet bed linen made of silk, ornated by a beautiful vegetable motif threaded in gold, and an excessive amount of cushions. However, what truly catches Miranda’s eye are the chains tied to both the posts of the headboard and the posts of the bottom of the bed. She feels her mouth watering against her own wishes at the image of her chained, legs spread and restrained at the mercy of a lustful Alcina towering over her like a dragon ready to strike down a god. The priestess stays still, waiting for her dragon to undress her at once and claim her body as hers, marking it with hungry kisses and angry bites.
However, nothing happens.
The priestess waits, waits and waits, staring at the grandfather clock that looms over her like a grand tower threatening to crumble into pieces and fall down. Isn’t until she hears a muffled sound that she turns around, on the verge of barking an order to Alcina and admonish her for her lack of action, that she understands why nothing happened: Alcina is fighting for her life to not cackle.
“Did the little bird suddenly forgot the schedule?”, the countess innocently asks.
Oh, for fuck’s sake, of course Alcina has a complete schedule for everything that is and isn’t done within her castle.
“My apologies, my lady”, Miranda says in a tight voice, doing her best to not sound irritated. “I haven’t been informed about my schedule.”
The priest gasps at Alcina’s sudden grasp around her neck, her large fingers dangerously squeezing it.
“Don’t tell me the little bird forgot the schedule she followed the other day.”
Her desire to get finally fucked by Alcina truly is huge, because in other circumstances she would have seen red at the fact that Alcina already had an affair with that Ingrid girl. She feels a sudden rush of macabre joy remembering that the girl is now rooting in the dungeons. Serves her well for having tasted the forbidden fruit before the priestess.
Thankfully, if she knows Alcina well, she can wild guess what she should do right now.
“Should I prepare the bath, my lady?”
“Go on, little lamb, what are you waiting for?”, Alcina replies as she releases Miranda’s neck and crosses her arms.
“Of course, my lady.”
Alcina looks down at Miranda, arching an eyebrow. The corner of the priestess’ lips is tugging. It seems her wild guess was indeed the right one. However, a dangerous and predatory smile settles on Alcina’s features.
“No, no”, she mockingly chides. “Within these walls and in this night, you’ll address me as mistress. Is that understood?”
Miranda makes a silent plea to the Black God to lend her the strength she’s lacking to not retort at such impudent demand. However, she can’t deny the fact that this… role swap between them is arousing her. Perhaps a bit too much.
Oh, the wicked woman is truly enjoying it, isn’t she?
“Yes, mistress”, the fake Ingrid says as politely as possible. “I’ll prepare your bath.”
But before Miranda can make her way to the adjacent bathroom, Alcina grabs her by both wrists, violently pinning her against the wall. The impact knocks the air from Miranda’s lungs who gasps.
“On second thought, let's skip the appetizer and go straight to the main course. I’ve been waiting so long, so very long to taste you, my dear.”
Other person would have screamed and kicked, terrified by the madness dancing in the countess eyes. But Miranda is not like the rest of humanity. She’s a goddess; one that’s enthralled, lost in the pools of black that are Alcina’s eyes, the golden of the irises being quickly swallowed by the darkness of the pupils.
With a swift flick of her wrist, Alcina tears the maid’s uniform with the help of her claws, exposing Miranda’s breasts and leaving on sight the black laced panties the priestess is wearing. For a second Miranda wonders if Alcina can see, smell, her already soaked underwear, which seems to be the case because Alcina’s eyes dart from her tits to her cunt.
“You’re such a filthy naughty girl”, she growls, ripping the tatters of the uniform and throwing them to the floor. “You surely touch yourself every night thinking about me, fantasizing with this moment like the whore you’re.”
Miranda’s mind goes blank, not a single coherent thought forming inside her head. She can’t do nothing but just pant at the proximity of Alcina’s breath to her neck. She shudders when the countess’ long tongue drags along her neck, her nose tickling Miranda’s earlobe. The priestess can feel her pussy clenching to nothing, already needing to be stuffed with anything.
“You smell so delicious, draga mea”, Alcina huskily says, sending shivers run down the priestess who does nothing to free herself from Alcina’s grasp. “I wonder if you taste as wonderful as you smell…”
Alcina’s golden eyes wickedly glint in contrast to Miranda’s blue eyes widening in realization. As soon as the thought of being bitten like a mundane piece of meat –as if she was the countess’ dinner– crosses her mind, Alcina sinks her fangs on the crook of her neck without a warning. The porcelain skin being profoundly pierced as a spurt of blood comes out through the wounds makes Miranda scream, not in agony but in surprise. Her eyes roll back hearing the moans of the countess muffled against her skin. However, as much as she finds the whole situation erotic –unbelievable, to find erotic to have your blood drained by a woman who can’t control her impulses– she gets alarmed when she senses that Alcina is enjoying the taste of her blood, which is profusely running down her neck to the cleavage, so much that she’s not letting Miranda go. As much as the priestess is close to be a literal goddess, her body is going to resent at the blood loss.
“You taste…”, the voice of Alcina reaches her ears. It sounds clear now that the countess lips depart from her neck, leaving behind a trail of bloody saliva. Her eyes are pitch black; the pupils completely blown out. “… Exquisite, angelic… divine.”
The countess yanks Miranda’s wrist and pushes her against the bed, the priestess’ knees faltering when they hit the mattress and falling onto it on his back.
Miranda feels lightheaded. Maybe from the blood loss, maybe from the way Alcina pushes and pulls her like a ragdoll at her whims. The dizziness in her mind abruptly dissipates when to her ears reaches the unmistakable sound of a chain being dragged. The priestess looks at her right just in time to see Alcina taking her wrist and chaining it and then doing the same with her other wrist –when did she already chain her ankles too?!–, making sure that the chains aren’t excessively tightened but neither loosened.
“What are you…?!”, Miranda tries to protest, not realizing that she may jeopardize her disguise, but Alcina tightly grabs her by the neck, putting enough pressure on it to cut her airways.
“This is for your own good, my little bird”, she huskily says as her other hand snakes down until it reaches the hem of Miranda’s panties. The priestess stiffens at the touch of Alcina’s gloved fingers roughly pushing down the panties and tearing them apart. “Oh, my bad, it seems I’ve ruined your panties.”
They both know that Alcina isn’t talking about the teared panties, but about the pool of Miranda’s dripped juices that are soaking the panties. For the first time in her life, Miranda is speechless, she has no words to describe how she’s feeling right now, chained to Alcina’s bed, her legs spread wide apart exposing her cunt that can’t stop gushing while her whole body is aching to get rid of the heat that’s threatening to consume her to ashes. The countess lazily lets the panties fall to the ground, her eyes hungrily staring at Miranda’s pussy. With a low and threatening tone laced with lust, she says to Miranda “You shouldn’t have entered the dragon’s lair.” Miranda tightly shuts her eyes, her breath itching at Alcina’s fingers spreading her cunt’s lips.
“You have a lovely pussy, dear. And so wet for your mistress as it should be. You’re such a good girl”, she purrs. Miranda feels humiliated at the way Alcina is talking about her wet pussy with such a mocking tone, and yet the humiliation makes her feel even more aroused which is, as the phrase goes, humiliating. However, whatever humiliation Miranda feels it vanishes as soon as Alcina’s index lightly brushes the sensitive bud making Miranda trash against the restraints. She lifts her hips to get more friction from Alcina’s finger, but the countess darkly chuckles, not moving her finger an inch and thus not alleviating Miranda’s burning ache. “If you want something you’ll have to ask it nicely.”
Alcina smirks, not bothered by the way the priestess’ eyes are burning holes on her, Miranda’s lips tightly shut in a thin line.
“Well?”. The countess perfectly arches an eyebrow. The fake Ingrid narrows her eyes. she can feel her pride being swallowed by the hole her burning desire has made inside her chest.
“Please.”
The countess’ finger lazily traces the hole of her pussy making Miranda jerk.
“Mistress!”
Slowly, the finger retreats from her entrance, leaving a trail of wetness. Miranda’s cheeks flush and her eyes wide in both surprise and arousal as she witnesses Alcina licking her finger. This is too much for Miranda’s already ruined sanity.
“Touch me, mistress… Please.”
Her whine gets interrupted by the abrupt feeling of Alcina’s big fingers penetrating her. The scream that rips Miranda’s throat leaves her throat sore, tears pouring from her half lidded eyes at the overwhelming feeling that suddenly assaulted her. But before she can order her thoughts and be aware of her surroundings once again, the countess looms over her, licking the still fresh blood that’s running down from her neck’s wound to her cleavage, biting and sucking the skin until she leaves purplish marks on it, all of this while her fingers start moving inside Miranda effortlessly despite the size difference. The priestess has to bite the inside of her cheeks to not loudly moan when Alcina’s relentless biting and sucking halts and pinches her left nipple while she sucks the right nipple.
Gods, she feels like she’s dying, consumed by the breathing fire of the dragon that’s devouring her, body and soul.
The priestess trashes against the cold chains in a reflex act when Alcina’s dexterous fingers hit a sweet spot that sends her to the limit that she ends surrounding and letting out a loud moan the moment the fingers inside her cunt do such scissoring movement that her walls spasm so hard when the orgasm hits her like a tidal wave. A tidal wave of a pleasure she has never felt before until this moment.
Panting, Miranda slowly opens her eyes while the countess withdraws her fingers and licks them once again, not breaking the eye contact with the woman that’s laying on her bed. Miranda hearts race when Alcina’s molten golden eyes shine with a predatory glint, a deep growl coming from her chest as she grabs the chains and breaks them without effort, like a Titan unleashing their mighty strength.
“On your fours.”
The thick lust dripping from Alcina’s voice leaves no room for argument nor doubt. Miranda quickly complies, heavily panting as she feels the wetness from her pussy rolling down the inside of her thighs. Her heart races when suddenly a velvety piece of fabric covers her eyes, depriving her of her sight.
“You’ve been a naughty girl”, Alcina huskily says, her lips brushing the shell of Miranda’s ear. “And you know that naughty girls must be punished, don’t they?”
Between the feeling of Alcina’s warm breath all over her neck, her dexterous hands snaking to her breasts and the empty darkness she sees through her blinded eyes, Miranda feels like her body is about to explode, and Alcina’s crotch rubbing against her ass isn’t helping anything at all. She can feel the countess body looming over her, pushing her own body against the already ruined bed linen.
“Answer me.”
“Yes… Yes, mistress. I’ve been a naughty girl and I deserve to be punished”, she manages to reply with a trembling voice that denotes excitement and anticipation at what Alcina has on mind for her this time. Miranda’s breath hitches when she feels the mattress dip, as if Alcina is positioning, the warm of her body no longer heating Miranda’s, replaced by an unknown touch she can’t recognize. It’s cold and... smooth, as if something made by leather is touching her small back. Whatever it is, it slowly travels from her small back to her neck, making Miranda shiver; then it traces the contour of her shoulders and ribs until it dangerously approaches her buttocks and creeps next to her… hole. Miranda instinctively clenches her ass at the proximity of the mysterious object, biting her lips to not whimper. However, the unexpected spank her buttock receives makes her scream in both pain and pleasure. The priestess pants, experiencing the burning feeling of the hit that has left a red mark on her skin. Now she understands what was that thing that was tracing her whole body.
Gods.
Alcina is using a riding crop.
“Look at you, my slutty girl, taking her punishment so well”, the countess purrs. Miranda can hear the arousal laced in her voice. It seems that seeing Miranda in such state, laying over her stomach, hips lift leaving her bare ass at the sight of everyone is affecting Alcina.
“Thank you, mis… tress!”, she hisses as another spank hits her cheeks. If she was wearing her jeweled claws, she would be gripping the bed linen and tearing it.
“Did I tell you that you have a lovely and beautiful butt? However, I think it can look even more beautiful.”
Miranda arches her back as the riding crop hits her twice once again without leaving her room to take a breath and collect herself. She’s not going to be able to sit comfortably for the next days, that’s for sure. She finds strange that she doesn’t mind that at all; worse: she wants more. The cold touch of the leather over the angry red marks makes Miranda moan in pleasure.
“If you keep behaving so well, I may have to reward you for being such a good girl.”
Miranda doesn’t hesitate to desperately nod, unable to utter words when saliva is hanging from the corner of her lips.
“Very well, then let’s a try a thing and if you stay still, you’ll receive the reward that your body is… begging for”, she says. To prove her words, Alcina touches Miranda’s cunt with the riding crop, the gush soaking the leather of the crop, which earns a deep moan from the priestess, who desperately tries to rub herself against the riding crop. “Hush, my little bird. Be patient for your mistress.”
The priestess doesn’t reply, her mind completely blank at the neediness she has right now. She needs Alcina to fingerfuck her again, as rough and quick as possible. She lifts up her hips greedily, ready to receive Alcina’s large and dexterous fingers sliding inside her. Miranda licks her lips as she feels the shift of the countess’ weight on the mattress when she changes positions. However, Alcina pulls a new surprise from her sleeve as a croupier pulls a trump card from their sleeve. The countess’ fingers ghost over the priestess’ neck, smudging the drops of blood that still overflow from the bite mark. Alarmed, Miranda tries to turn her head to see what Alcina is trying to do, but the countess pushes her head down, burying it into the pillow. Miranda tries to resist Alcina’s attempt to suffocate her for a few agonizing seconds until she realizes that Alcina isn’t trying to choke or hurt her: she’s trying to adjust what it seems to be a collar around her neck. As soon as Alcina clasps the collar, she lets Miranda go, who takes a deep breath, finally not being pinned down by Alcina’s weight. Tentatively she reaches a hand around her neck, the tip of her fingers tracing the surface of a metallic medallion that hangs in the middle of the collar. Her blood goes cold when she feels a familiar pattern.
She’s wearing a collar with the crest of House Dimitrescu engraved on its medallion. But that’s not all. The collar has a leash attached to it.
“Now you’re a possession of mine”, Alcina huskily says, inhaling Miranda’s bloody neck. The priestess swallows the thick lump that’s stuck at the back of her throat, not knowing what to do or what to say at such turn of the events. “And I’ll make sure you know your place, my little bird.”
Miranda gasps at the forceful and sharp pull of the leash that makes her kneel, her back pressed against Alcina’s torso. The fire within Miranda ignites once again, melting under the trail of kisses Alcina is leaving on the back of her neck and between her shoulder blades. With the marks of her lipstick and her little bird’s blood, the countess is painting her opera magna on Miranda’s skin. And Miranda couldn’t be more than happy that Alcina has chosen her as her canvas even if she thinks that the woman who’s submitting to her is the unfortunate Ingrid. The priestess can’t care less about it when Alcina slowly pushes her down again, not halting on her kisses, and spreads her legs with her knee.
“Now, let’s see how special you’re”, Alcina breathes into Miranda’s hear. The priestess tenses when she feels the tip of what it’s clearly a cock, rather a strap-on. Her heartbeat spikes as the dildo strokes against the entrance of her cunt. It’s too big, she can sense it. Alcina is going to tear her apart like a piece of meat cut in a half. Miranda tries to warn Alcina about it, but her words get stuck in her throat as the riding crop strikes her butt cheek again with full force, leaving another large red mark on it.
“Mistress!”, Miranda cries at the hit, totally blissed by the raw feelings that are overwhelming her. The line between pain and pleasure blurs too much in the hands of Alcina, who finally slides her cock into Miranda, drawing another scream of pleasure. The priestess’ grip on the bedclothes tightens to the point that the cracking of her knuckles is heard along with the sound of Alcina’s hips hitting her flesh, first at a slow and tentative pace to allow Miranda to adjust to the dildo’s large size, but gradually increasing the pace. Miranda gasps when Alcina suddenly pulls the leash, forcing her to throw her head back. At the contact of her back against Alcina’s chest she realizes that this time the countess is naked. God, she can feel her hard nipples against her skin as she groans in satisfaction, encountering resistance in Miranda’s pussy when she tries to slide the dildo further inside her. Another obscene scream of pleasure is about to rise from Miranda’s throat when Alcina throws away the riding crop and pinches Miranda’s nipples, her other hand still pulling the leash; but Miranda swallows it, too prideful to let Alcina know that she owns her, that she’s the only one who can make her feel such sinful sensations, even if the countess doesn’t know she’s the reverend Mother Miranda. What would the countess think of her if she saw that her goddess is just a filthy whore like her foolish maids? However, she has the impression that Alcina knows she’s being stubborn and that she’s going to do everything in her hand to make Miranda beg her for more, moan for her more, scream her name until Miranda’s throat goes sore and all the castle’s denizens know to whom the priestess belong. A dark chuckle roars from the countess’ chest as she loosens her grip on the leash and pushes Miranda against the wooden headboard, its cold surface cooling the priestess’ burning skin.
“C’mon, pet”, Alcina pants. Miranda knows by her ragging breath that Alcina is approaching her own climax. “I want to hear your screams. I want the whole castle to know what a greedy whore you’re, taking your Mistress’… Cock. So. Well”, she punctuates each word in dark growls at each thrust inside Miranda, each one even deeper than the previous one. Miranda bites her lips until they bleed to avoid the high-pitched moan of pleasure that’s threatening to flee from her lips and that probably everyone in the castle would hear. “To whom do you belong?”, Alcina insists, her lips kissing the corner of Miranda’s. The priestess feels like she’s going to burst, the pleasure being too overwhelming for her. She came with the idea of getting fucked by the countess, but she never imagined that it would feel so great. Stealthily, Alcina’s hand snakes down to her clit, finally eliciting a verbal response from Miranda.
“To you, Alcina!”, she screams, completely forgetting to address Alcina as her mistress as she arches her back, missing the way Alcina’s eyes darken at the sound of her name sung like that. Miranda grabs the headboard as if her life depends on it. She’s so close to cum again, but she’s holding herself as she feels Alcina’s hip-trusts becoming more erratic and deeper, a telltale that the collected countess is about to yield soon to pleasure too. However, something seems to be restraining her from reaching her orgasm, and not because she badly wants to cum. Alcina starts to babble nonsense that Miranda, lost in her blissful insanity, doesn’t manage to understand until she finally realizes that Alcina is pleading. The countess takes off Miranda’s blindfold and pulls her by the hair, completely forgetting about the leash she’s still wearing, and forces her let go off the mattress. Alcina maneuvers both of them so they’re facing the wall’s mirror, allowing Miranda to see her makeup ruined by the dried sweat and tears. Her cheeks are as red as Alcina’s, who’s panting like a feral beast, still pulling Miranda’s hair. The gaze of both women meet on the mirror’s reflection.
Miranda’s heart skips a beat.
The way Alcina is looking at her isn’t the way she looks at other people, at her maids. The only person she looks to with such unadulterated desire and devotion is her. A simple phrase springs from Alcina’s lips like an afterthought that wasn’t mean to be spoken aloud to the winds.
“I love you.”
Something that laid dormant inside Miranda’s soul abruptly ignites like a sparkling fire, a feeling so familiar and so nostalgic that breaks down Miranda’s façade. And before she can avoid it, the face that looks into the mirror isn’t Ingrid’s anymore, the fake soft blue eyes vanishing turning into the steely blue ones of the priestess, a faint glow emanating from them.
The effect is immediate on both women as Alcina buries herself deep inside in Miranda, tilting her head so she can give the priestess the kisses she desperately wants from her, her body contorted, allowing Miranda to snake her fingers in the countess’ disheveled hair. Both of them had been tiptoeing around their feelings and their desire for each other for so long that the whole situation feels sinful even blasphemous to them. A countess tasting her goddess. A priestess submitting to her acolyte. Alcina grabs Miranda by the neck and forces her to look at the mirror. The thick drops of sweat forming on her forehead and the misty eyes let Miranda know that Alcina is finally going to reach her orgasm.
“Miranda…”, she huskily whispers in her ear, not stopping her thrusts, the fake cock sliding in and out Miranda’s pussy at an erratic pace.
“Don’t hold off... do it!”, the priestess manages to say, thrusting herself against Alcina, her hips meeting hallway with Alcina’s when the countess slightly repositions herself in such way that the cock hits Miranda in the right place, making the priestess’s cunt roughly clench, a nerve-breaking orgasm washing her. “MAKE ME YOURS, ALCINA”, Miranda screams as tears of pleasure run down her cheeks, ruining her makeup even further.
The sight of Miranda utterly ruined under her reflected on the mirror –her eyes closed, and her eyebrows furrowed in a blissful expression of pleasure– is the final nail on the coffin of Alcina’s control. With one last deep thrust, the countess too reaches her orgasm, moaning in a low growl the name of the priestess like a mantra, aware that everything has changed forever between them.
On the aftermath of the sex, when both of them are in bed –Alcina softly snoring with a peaceful expression of happiness etched on her face– Miranda can’t help but smile. In the end, Alcina saw her through her disguise from the very beginning, that’s why she chose her over anyone. Miranda is aware that Alcina is going to remind for her whole life the things she has done just to get fucked by the countess, but in all honestly Miranda doesn’t care about that anymore. Why would she care when from now she’ll have all eternity to have sex with Alcina –after she has punished the filthy little lambs of her staff– without pulling more shenanigans to accomplish it?
She’s too prideful, but there are things that seem to be worthy to ask for them. They surely are, she thinks as she kisses the countess’ lips before drifting to sleep.
I need your loving.